


We're Getting There, Baby

by Tooti_Fruity



Series: Cacophony and Entropy and Apathy In NYC [4]
Category: Futurama
Genre: M/M, but i split it up into two chapters for those who want to avoid smut altogether, god please let my sons be happy, the second is just aftercare and slight angst about the events of the first fic, this one is smutty as hell, this takes place the same night as "hot and humid" btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooti_Fruity/pseuds/Tooti_Fruity
Summary: Bender fulfills his promise to make Fry forget. It's not like it's forever, it's a 'quick fix' in the purest sense of the term, but for now, it's enough, for both of them.And that's all that really matters to him.





	1. There Is No Future, There Is No Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rowan_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowan_one/gifts).



> You don't need to read the other fics in the series for this to make much sense; I try to keep each fic fairly self contained. All you need to know is that Fry got kicked out when his parents finds out about him being bisexual and that he showed up on Bender's doorstep. This takes place on the same night as "Hot and Humid".

As Bender cleaned his room up a bit (which mostly consisted of fixing the bed to a decent standard and shoving dirty clothes into his closet and under the bed) in darkness, his thoughts trailed to his boyfriend of nearly two years: Philip J Fry.

Fry was currently showering in his bathroom a door away, and honestly, Bender would give anything to join him. He didn’t want to leave Fry alone for even a second after the emotional kick to the nads he had experienced less than a couple of hours ago, but he took solace in the fact that they’d be as close as two people can possibly get in a matter of minutes.

Bender took his time alone to pop a mint (he couldn’t taste good after sleeping for 3 hours, having indulged himself on booze and not brushed his teeth afterward) and reflect on what Fry had told him about what his parents said. He always knew that Fry’s parents didn’t like him, which, if he was being completely honest with himself, wasn’t entirely unreasonable; Bender was a really bad influence usually, encouraging Fry to skip school and come hang out at the garage and to get drunk with him on weekends. Fry’s parents, by all means, had every right to be wary of someone who was, in their eyes, irreversibly corrupting their son. But while they did have a right to be wary of a bad influence, Bender’s race and their romantic relationship shouldn’t have played any part in their decision to reject Fry’s sexuality.

It had never been a secret to anyone that Bender and Fry weren’t exactly the most compatible, even as friends; Bender came from a rougher part of town and was, to put it bluntly, as poor as dirt, while his boyfriend had always been, albeit on the lower end of but still, middle class, settled in his family home in a decent neighborhood. Bender wasn’t above breaking a few laws for his own gain; the closest to doing illegal shit Fry had ever gotten to was going along with his crazy schemes.

No one was more acutely aware of these differences than Bender.

While Fry remained blissfully unaware in his endearing and loveable but admittedly stupid “boy-next-door” aura, Bender was highly cognizant of the fact that Fry was probably too good for him in every way and that he could undoubtedly do far better. In fact, while he would die before he admitted it, in Bender’s mind, the only good thing about him had always been Fry, and he had opted to refrain from being open about how he genuinely felt like garbage most days because such an admission would definitely tarnish his image of unshakable bravado.

Bender was abruptly shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a gentle knock at his bedroom door. Wheeling around to face the entrance, he found Fry, face painted with a sheepish grin, skin still pink but decidedly healthier looking, standing in his door.

Correction: Fry was standing in his bedroom door in a towel.

_In nothing but a towel._

Bender swallowed when he saw Fry, because _God_ , he looked positively radiant in a seamless and natural way that only he could pull off, and he couldn’t stop himself from stumbling across the carpeted floor and cupping Fry’s face in his hands, smashing their lips together. Fry, who had opted to grip Bender’s sides, had neglected the towel loosely tied around his waist, and it swiftly dropped to the floor without a second thought, leaving him barer than the day he was born.

Bender could feel just how bare he was.

Reaching down to grip his waist, he picked Fry up, grunting at the exertion and stumbling slightly, and Fry, who had been through this dance a million times already, wrapped his legs around Bender’s waist in a way that could only be achieved naturally by practice. Bender was leading with a natural dominance, a dominance that Fry had always struggled to emulate, as he carried his lover to his bed. He bent over the edge, dropping Fry and moving only to allow him to reposition himself so that they could both fit, before he was promptly on top of the other man, sucking on his neck and grinding against his nude form.

Suddenly, Fry pulled away, his face conflicted. Bender immediately stopped his grinding and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Do you wanna stop, fleshtube?” he murmured. Fry only shook his head.

“No, I just…want to forget. I don’t want to go slow tonight. I want things to get…rough? Maybe?” he explained, averting his gaze and reaching around his head to rub the back of his neck. Bender raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure?” he asked in a low voice. “I mean...” he trailed off, not quite sure how string together the right words for what he wanted to say.

Fry groaned in frustration, allowing one hand to fall over his eyes. “Look, I know you think I need you to hold back, but I’m telling you right now that I need you to fuck me as hard as you can, just like you always do. I want things to feel normal, even if it’s only for a little while,” Bender’s brows drew together in a conflicted sort of way, and he fell silent for what must have seemed like the longest ten seconds of Fry’s life. Finally, he spoke once more.

“If you’re sure, meatbag, then…” And suddenly, Bender grinned wickedly. “I’ll screw you within an inch of your life,” Fry’s faced flushed at the crass nature of his words, but he couldn’t hide the anticipation in his eyes.

Fry wrapped his arms around Bender with little thought as his boyfriend latched onto his neck like a tick and began to suck a hickey onto his skin. He groaned in that way that always had Bender weak in the knees as he mouthed at Fry’s neck crudely. Bender had always been rough in bed, pounding his partners into the mattress with little regard for anything but making them both feel good; his lovers, most of which were female, were often left boneless and drenched in sweat from his dexterity, and while they were certainly easy on the eyes and almost always a good lay, he often kicked them out before noon the next day. Bender didn’t do attachment; he flirted, he chased tail, and he fucked hard and without thought, but he didn’t get committed in any sense of the word.

But Fry, from day one, had always been different; while he liked to have his hair pulled and for Bender to bite him and slam him into his mattress and to be shamelessly sullied in every sense of the word, he also loved Bender in a way that was genuine and sweet and pure, and so unmistakably and uniquely _him_. And when he spent the night, Bender _always_ let him stay until late the next day to drink cheap beer and watch All My Circuits with him. Often, Bender wanted for him to stay longer rather than being ready to get rid of him as quickly as possible. That sensation, the desire to be close with someone he was sleeping with, someone he was _dating_ , was strange and new and different than what he was used to, but if Fry kept looking at him like that, he could get used to it.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Fry’s whimpering and the sensation of blunt nails digging into his back. He could feel the scratches stinging in all the best ways, and at the cue of the sharp pain settling deliciously between his shoulder blades, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of the other’s neck in a way that had Fry positively _wailing_.

“Bender, I can’t wait anymore. Touch me,” he begged, gripping Bender’s broad, tan shoulders for purchase as he felt his boyfriend begin to suck and lap at the sharp indentions in his pale neck. Bender, finally running out of patience, spit into his right hand and reached down between them to grip Fry’s shaft in his rough, calloused fingers.

Fry’s eyes were glossy with desire as Bender ruthlessly pumped his hand in deliberate, calculated strokes.

“Please,” he whimpered, eyes watery with lust. “Don’t stop,” Bender grinned devilishly and leaned down to suck on his left ear, breathing hotly and whispering filthy remarks.

“You love it when I touch you, dontcha?” he hissed, reaching down to fondle his lover’s testicles. Fry’s eyes rolled back, his head lolling to the side.

“I do,” he gasped, gripping Bender’s arm. Bender smirked.

“You know why that is?” Fry gazed up at him expectantly, his eyes glazed over with lust. Bender rumbled with laughter, before sliding his hand up to tease the head of Fry’s shaft. “It’s because you’re a _slut_. You’re my fucking whore, and that’s all you’ll ever be,” Fry whined with arousal, digging his nails into Bender’s shoulders.

“Bender, I’m close,” he warned, his face flushing. Bender simpered, a smug smile painted across his face.

“Come,” he commanded, biting down on Fry’s ear hard enough to draw blood. And then Fry was arching his back as hoarse cries poured from his mouth as he finished in Bender’s hand. Bender diligently continued to pump his shaft with careful strokes until Fry’s tense body went impossibly limp, and he sank down into the mattress, totally boneless and looking utterly _wrecked_ in a way that had Bender’s blood pounding in his ears.

It was only about ten seconds before Fry sat up, his desire to make Bender feel good cutting through his dazed afterglow.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he murmured, reaching down to cup Bender’s erection through his sweatpants. Bender’s mouth went unbearably dry as Fry began to kneed him with vigilant and gentle strokes, and soon he felt Fry pulling his bulkier body towards him and shoving him to his side. In a matter of seconds, Bender was underneath him, and his heart stopped at how lovely Fry looked in the pale glinting of the crescent moon peeking through the shades of his window. His hair had become ruthlessly tousled in their lust, and his skin was flushed with a brilliant, pink sheen, his eyes blown wide and almost black with longing as he sat on Bender’s bare chest.

“You’re-you look-nice,” Bender blurted out, his face immediately coloring with embarrassment. Why had he said that?! But Fry only laughed, his face alive with mirth as he leaned down to whisper his gratitude into his boyfriend’s ear.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he flirted, winking. And without a second thought, he slid down Bender’s body until he rested between his legs.

“I want these off you,” he demanded, his face betraying his impatience. Bender chuckled, reaching down to force the sweatpants and boxers down his thighs and eventually kicking them off and onto the floor. Fry, wasting no time in his arousal, was on him in seconds, sucking him off as though his life depended on it.

“Fuck, that’s good,” groaned Bender, gripping his hair tightly. Fry chuckled around him, and the vibrations had him throwing his head back and groaning. He saw Fry, out of the corner of his eyes, staring up at him with a smugness that made Bender’s blood hot.

Reaching down in a moment of dominance, Bender gripped Fry’s hair and yanked him up so hard his eyes watered.

“You little shit,” he snarled, his face twisted in a feigned sneer. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?” Fry frantically shook his head. Bender glared at him before he began to rumble with laughter. “I ain’t buyin’ it, slut,” he hissed. “Guess I’ll have to punish you,”

Fry stared at him with an eagerness that outshined his fear and nodded his excitement, and it was all the consent Bender needed to jerk him up onto his body and force two fingers into his mouth.

“Suck,” he growled. Fry immediately went to work, running his tongue and teeth over Bender’s index and middle finger with ease and gazing at him with glassy, lustful eyes. After Bender had deemed they were well lubricated enough, he slid them out of his boyfriend’s mouth and slipped his hand down his back and between his cheeks.

Bender teased him smugly, savoring the way Fry whimpered his name like a prayer and breathlessly begged for him to sink his fingers into him. He latched onto Fry’s neck once more, sucking another hickey to add to the collection he had created.

“Bender, please, I need you inside me,” Bender pulled back slightly and gazed up at him wantonly.

“Say you’re a dirty slut. I want to hear you say you’re mine,” he commanded, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to twist one of Fry’s nipples.

Fry threw his head back, crying out and brokenly parroting him.

“I’m a dirty slut! I belong to you! I don’t deserve to have your dick and fingers inside me, but I’m begging you, _please fuck me!_ ” Bender felt his dick twitch from the needy way Fry pleaded for him, and without hesitation, he sunk two thick fingers into him.

Fry fell forward, panting and gasping and looking utterly _depraved_ in his pleasure, and Bender couldn’t help but grab his hair and pull him down, crushing their mouths together in a frantic and desperate kiss, slipping their tongues together without hesitancy. He felt Fry writhe from his ministrations, bringing up his hands to grip Bender’s hair tightly as he added a third finger.

It only took about a minute of Bender prodding around inside his partner to find his prostate, and when he did, Fry snapped back, weeping a mantra of _mine, Bender, I love you, don’t stop don’t stop don’t-_. Bender shuddered in desire; he could feel Fry’s erection, springing back to life and growing more and more hot and heavy against him by the second, pressed between the delicious friction of their stomachs and leaking precum all over them, and _good God_ did he never want to stop, but he knew he had to, or Fry would come undone too soon.

Bender removed all three fingers, and as soon as he did, Fry fell forward and whimpered at the loss. His whole body, despite having collapsed all his weight into Bender’s chest so completely that Bender barely caught him, was still wound tighter than the string of a crossbow. Bender could, even with his room still painted with darkness, see that the pink glow of Fry’s skin had steadily grown redder over the course of their exploits, and he brought the rough finger pads of his free hand to push back his best friend’s disheveled hair.

“Hey,” Fry stared, though it took several moments for him to really _see_ him, and eventually let out a soft laugh.

“Hey yourself,” he murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to Bender’s forehead. “Aren’t you gonna…?”

Bender hesitated.

“Are you sure you want it like this right now? It’s…I know you have a lot on your mind,” he finished lamely. Fry, his face shadowing with emotional sobriety, cupped Bender’s square face in his soft hands.

“I want you, like this. Right now. I know you’re scared...oh Bender, don’t give me that face, you know it’s true! I know you’re scared, I am too. But I need you, just like this, if you’ll...” And at that, he trailed off sheepishly. “…if you’ll take me? Like this?”

Bender froze, but only for a second, before drawing him into a sweet kiss. Pulling away seconds later, he whispered,

“Don’t be stupid, stupid. I’ll always take you,” Bender hesitated, though only to ask, “How are we gonna do this? You wanna be on top or…?”

Fry shook his head, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

“I want you on top of me. You can, um, hold my legs up if you don’t want me to wrap them around...” he trailed off, averting his gaze. Bender gave him a roguish grin.

“Trust me, I don’t mind,” Fry snorted in a way that likely would’ve killed Bender’s boner if he were literally _anybody else_ (but he’s Fry, it doesn’t count when it’s Fry) and rolled off Bender’s lap and onto his back beside him.

It took a moment for Bender to locate the lubrication he kept in his nightstand drawer, a moment that was littered with Bender muttering obscenities in Spanish that he was sure would probably have embarrassed Fry had he been able to understand him, before Bender was able to find the blue bottle and prepare himself. He then seated himself on his knees at the junction of Fry’s legs, gripping the base of his dick as he leaned into Fry and only gave pause to gaze down at his boyfriend for a final confirmation of his consent. Fry sat up and rested a hand on Bender’s neck.

“Do it,” he whispered. And that was all Bender needed to hear.

The next few minutes were like a fever dream, but only in the best ways, as Bender sank into Fry and almost collapsed from the weakness that overtook him. It was too much at once, the way Fry was looking at him, like he could see straight through all of him and strip him down to his core, and the tight heat all around his most sensitive region, and the sounds that were being torn from both of them as he gripped the inside of Fry’s kneecaps in his palms and set a punishing pace. The obscene sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room, almost as prominent as the humidity that was permeating from them as Fry dug his dull nails into Bender shoulders and wailed with pleasure, tightening impossibly every time Bender hit him the right way.

“Bender, I-I can’t, I need to-” Fry practically sobbed, and when Bender accomplished a particularly well aimed thrust as he bit down on his neck, Fry was arching his back and spilling hotly against his own sweat soaked stomach. It was only seconds later, as Fry purposefully tightened himself, that Bender was driven to completion, finishing inside of Fry with several frantic yet uncoordinated thrusts.

Bender came down from his high as his movements slowed, becoming lazier and more uneven with each motion, until he finally collapsed on the bed next to Fry’s equally limp and sticky form.

The two laid in near silence, interrupted only by Bender reaching over to throw away the used rubber, and the only soundtrack to the scene being their shallow breathing and the pounding of their hearts. It was ultimately Bender who eventually broke through the comfortable stillness with a breathless and raspy laugh.

“Holy _shit_ dude,” he chortled, rolling over to hold Fry tightly. “Christ, I fucking love you,”

Fry gave him a goofy grin, face still red from exertion. “Love you too,” he murmured.


	2. I Live This Moment As My Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bender gets contemplative amidst banter and bathtime. Fry learns honesty is always the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the smut free chapter; I split this up for the sake of those who only want aftercare.

“Mm, now it’s the part of the show where Fry takes his nap,”

Bender smirked momentarily, and in a second flat, he had already pulled Fry close.

“Nope, Fry’s Naptime has been cancelled and replaced with a new show: Bender and Fry Take A Shower Because Aftercare Matters. Fox is a fickle network,” Fry made a noise of protest, falling back and burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Can’t that wait,” he pleaded. Bender rolled his eyes.

“Sure. And then you can spend tomorrow NOT whining about how sore and sticky you are because you wouldn’t listen to your boyfriend and take a damn shower after a night of rough fucking,” Fry rolled over, burying his face in one of the caseless pillows littering the bed.

“I weigh a ton,” came Fry’s muffled response. Bender sighed.

“Gimme a break. That might work on fucking Wong, but I’ve run laps carrying you on my back before, and I can bench twice your weight, easy. You’re not heavy enough for me to fall for that,” he grumbled, though there was a playful edge to his sharp tone.

Relenting, Fry rolled over. “Fine. But only because I like it when you carry me,”

Fry sat up, and pulling his legs up to his chest to allow easier access, Bender easily hooked one arm under the back of his knees and one under his back.

“Houston, we’re cleared for take off,” Bender teased. Fry groaned.

“There’s only room for one of us to make corny jokes in this relationship,” he said, burying his face in his hands.

“Would you rather me do the terrible impressions?” he asked.

“Bender Rodriguez, I swear to God…” Fry warned.

“One of these days, Alice…pow! To the moon!” he bellowed. Fry gave him a withering look.

“Bender, I’m so fu-”

“Well, if you don’t like my voices, you can eat my shorts!” he cried, making his voice sound as nasally as possible.

“You sound nothing like Nancy Cartwright!”

“Tell me, does Barry Manilow know you raided his wardrobe?” Fry facepalmed. “Oh, come on! That one even comes from a guy who has the same name as me, it’s perfect!”

“But we’re both naked, so it doesn’t even make sense!” Bender let out a bark of laughter.

It was a short walk to the bathroom, which spared Fry from more of Bender’s impressions, and once they arrived, Bender sat him on the counter and turned the knob on the bathtub.

“I thought you wanted to shower?” Fry asked. Bender shrugged.

“I figured you’d rather have bathtime after bottoming. You seem sore,” Fry pouted, but it was hard to be annoyed when Bender was being so considerate.

“Yeah, well, sore is the understatement of the millennium,” he grumbled. Bender chose not to respond, simply focusing on making sure the bath was the perfect temperature; just hot enough for Fry, but just cool enough for him.

“Alright, lover boy, c’mon,” he said, pulling Fry up and over to the bath once it had finished filling.

As soon as they settled in, sitting on opposite ends of the bathtub, a comfortable silence enveloped the room as they began to wash. However, true to his nature, it soon became too much for Fry to bear, and he leaned forward, burying his hands in Bender’s hair.

“What the fuck?” Bender griped, but there was little bite to his words. Fry snorted.

“Your hair is a damn rats nest. Do you ever comb it?” Bender rolled his eyes, back hunched forward as Fry kneaded his curls.

“Who needs that? It’s media propaganda, Fry, and you’re a fuckin sheep for following it. Just more fear mongering bullshit so companies can peddle their newest line of flavor of the week hair produ-fuking hell Fry, easy on the merch!” he cried. Fry scoffed.

“Maybe if you didn’t let it your hair get this tangled, it wouldn’t hurt so much to wash it,”

“Yeah, well, ‘properly’ washing it hurts like a bitch. And watch it with the suds, you’re gonna get soap in my eyes!” he exclaimed. Fry only hummed in acknowledgement.

Several minutes later, Fry grabbed the plastic green cup from its spot on the rim of the tub and filled it with water.

“Okay, rinse your hair,”

Bender scowled, but complied, though he claimed he was ‘doing it under protest’, and Fry only snickered, which earned him a smack upside the head.

However, the next silence to fall over them, unlike the first, felt tense. Bender tried to focus on washing the sudsy mess from his hair, and it seemed like Fry was equally set on seeming distracted, taking an unnatural interest in the writing on the blue shampoo bottle to his right.

_Yeah right,_ Bender silently scoffed. _As if he knows what half of that chemical shit even means._

It was Bender who had the balls to break the silence.

“Okay, Fry, we need to talk,” he started cautiously, but no less firm than he saw fit. Fry seemed, somehow, even more focused on the shampoo bottle. “Fry…” he murmured, voice low and determined.

He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when he felt Fry trembling slightly.

“I know you probably don’t want to dwell on it, but I just want to know if you’re okay-” he began. Fry’s eyes finally met his, and his expression was definitely cross now.

“Look, can we not do this now? I’d rather not think about the fact that I just fucking kicked out for being a faggot,” Bender winced for a split second at the harshness of his tone but recovered quickly.

“Fine. We can drop it,” he muttered irately.

They remained like this for several agonizing moments; Bender refused to crack. He knew that he probably shouldn’t pry, but Fry’s determination to seem as cheerful and unconcerned was…well, concerning. He knew Fry was definitely hurting underneath the front he put up.

He had always known Fry had a tendency to mask his own pain for other people’s sakes; Bender had always figured it was a product of spending a childhood being called ‘retard’- _by his own parents_ -and being told his feelings didn’t matter- _by his own parents_ -and always feeling like garbage- _because of his own goddamn parents_ -

Yeah. In hindsight, he was an idiot for not realizing it earlier; in his defense, though, it had always been fairly subtle, as most abuse actually is; a small yelp from a tender wrist being mistakenly grabbed too hard, a brushed off flinch when Bender raised his voice at someone else; an air of trying to seem as small as possible, a resting position of curling up or slouching, which rarely worked for a guy who was as tall and thick as Fry.

And, to his own credit, Fry did a fairly good job of talking his family up; if Bender didn’t know any better, (and he didn’t, for the longest time) he would’ve sworn Fry’s family was the paragon of white middle class suburbia, with a stoic but kind bread winner dad, a doting housewife who packed every lunch with a note signed with a love, a bratty half pint brother and a big dog and a white picket fence.

The reality of the situation came like a sucker punch to the gut; the tense air in the house the first-and only-time he came over, the way Fry’s mother didn’t bother to greet her own son, the way Fry seemed to flinch at the slightest movement from his father, how Yancy seemed to slink from room to room, seemingly trying to make himself as scarce as possible. He could feel it when they sat down to dinner, and how when Fry’s father started raving about ‘these damn kids and their faggot hippy agenda’, Fry started clawing at his own arms unconsciously, and rather than asking if he was alright, Fry’s mother snapped about him ‘looking like a freak’.

Needless to say, the night ended in a flipped table and Bender storming out with Fry in tow.

“Hey, I’m sorry I snapped,”

Bender almost physically shook his head cartoonishly when he was snapped out of his stupor; he blinked, eyes still slightly unfocused from his introspection.

“What?” Fry shrugged sheepishly, finally meeting his eyes head on.

“I shouldn’t snap on you; I know you’re just trying to help and support me. I just-don’t know how to feel right now,” he admitted.

Bender felt his chest tighten. “C’mon, Small Fry,” he whispered. Fry slid forward, leaning into his arms.

“I’m just so…like, in my head, I know I made the right choice coming here and choosing you, but it still hurts. To get rejected by my own family like that,” Bender nodded sympathetically.

“Understandable; even though they’re shitty, they’re still you parents. But…” he trailed off, and Fry craned his neck to look at him properly. “They ain’t your family. Me, Amy, Leela, hell, Kelly and Kif. And your crazy old uncle. We’re your family. Y’know, that old saying ‘blood is thicker than water’-people get it backwards. It’s actually ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, which is a just fancy way of saying the people you choose to tie yourself to are you family over the people who won the genetic lottery and got to have you and-” He abruptly stopped. “Goddamnit, I’m rambling. Shit,”

Fry snickered, leaning up to press a kiss to the spot where his neck married his shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re cute when you ramble. And, for what it’s worth, I get what you mean. It makes sense, yeah? I just need time to convince myself of that,”

*****************************

Later, as Fry lay beside him, his bare skin pressed against his own, wet hair soaking the pillows because neither had the energy to dry it, Bender rubbed Fry’s shoulders. Fry let out soft noises of approval, practically purring as he leaned into the touch.

_God, I love him. I am so fucking **boned** , but I don’t even care. As long as he’s here now._

Fry cracked one eye open. “Stop thinking so hard; I can hear it from over here,”

“Well, considering you’re pressed against me as much as you can be, I imagine that’s not much of a surprise,” he teased. Fry snorted, nuzzling into Bender’s neck.

“Gnight, Bender,” he murmured. Bender carded a hand through the other’s hair and sighed.

“Gnight, meatbag,”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Up next: a fic about Bender's coworkers being idiots over why Fry makes him act goofy, a fic about how Fry getting kicked out went down, and maybe I'll even expand my fusion au. 8D

**Author's Note:**

> This would have never gotten finished if not for rowan_one. Seriously, go check out their stuff. Thank you for keeping me on my toes pal! I can still hear the echo of 'aftercare tooti, sTOP WRITING OTHER FICS TO AVOID THIS ONE!' 8D


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